The Writing Of Words Can Lead To

Work Accomplished Means Little. It Is In The Past. What We All Want Is The Glorious And Living Present.

I Think That Those Of Us Who Are What Are Called Intellectuals Make A Terrible Mistake In Overvaluing The Yen We Have For The Arts, Books, Etc. There Is A Sweet, Fine Quality In Life That Has Nothing To Do With This, And More And More I Find Myself Valuing Myself With Those People.

I Feel That I Am Writing Out Of A Full Life. I Am A Rich Man, Rich In Men Known, In Adventures Had. I Am Rich With Living.

The Machines Men Are So Intent On Making Have Carried Them Very Far From The Old Sweet Things.

I Am A Little Thing, A Tiny Little Thing On The Vast Prairies. I Know Nothing. My Mouth Is Dirty. I Cannot Tell What I Want. My Feet Are Sunk In The Black Swampy Land, But I Am A Lover. I Love Life. In The End Love Shall Save Me.